And So It Ends
by TimshelBliss
Summary: The boys have reached the end of the road, "now your life's no longer empty, surely heaven waits for take on how I want the whole series to end. Warning for character death... this isn't a prediction for how it will end, so much as simple how I desperately think it should end. ENJOY!


**Disclaimer: I just double checked, and no, they still aren't mine. Dammit.**

**So essentially, this is my take on how the series should end. Please keep in mind that season ten has not yet started, and I have absolutely _no_ idea what this next, very possibly final, season will entail. As a result of this (very unsettling) not-knowing, I'm trying to make the ending as vague as possible, so that hopefully no matter where this tenth season goes, it might still be able to end like this.**

**First, let me set the stage: essentially, whoever the antagonist was has been defeated, and whatever evil the boys faced has been vanquished; but at the cost of their lives.**

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_We've won. We've won. We've won._

It was a mantra that Dean spoke over and over again in his mind. Like that old Zeppelin album he once had that an eight year old Sam accidentally scratched, replaying the same words over and over and over to the point where the annoyingness of its repetition became a comforting background noise.

_We've won_, he sang again in his head, even as he began to feel the destruction his body had been through, the pain that seared through ever bone and every fibre of his being. He hurt, but _we've won_, he repeated once again.

Just one look at his equally beaten brother and Dean knew that the younger Winchester was thinking the same thing; celebrating their victory, knowing it would be their last, but not caring even slightly, because once again, _We've won. We've won. We've won._

The brothers found support in each other; one leaning on the other as they fought past the pain surging through their bodies to navigate their way out of the bunker. It was on fire, you see, the bunker; yet another side-effect of their victory. Though they knew Death was coming for them, they sure as hell weren't spending their last moments in a fire; too many of their family had breathed their last breath surrounded by smoke and flames, and so despite their screaming muscles, Sam and Dean trudged onwards.

The first thing that greeted them upon escape from the flames was cold, and then darkness, and then vacancy, but then all it took was a tilt of their heads to see the stars shining down upon them, and then their eyes adjusted to the darkness, revealing the 67 Chevy Impala, sitting elegantly, seemingly waiting for them; a home that wasn't a house. It _was_ their home after all, forget the bunker, Bobby's house, Stanford, all thirty years of crappy motel rooms, _this_ was home.

Each step towards the Impala was an effort worthy of applause, but the only sounds in the night were the crackle of flames and the symphony of the crickets who would surely live to see the morning. But there was no time to think about the morning, because they weren't going to see the morning; Sam knew this, Dean knew this.

But they'd appreciated the sunrises they had seen, hadn't they? Sam though so, Dean thought so.

And that was good enough for them.

After thirteen of the hardest steps the boys had ever taken, the Impala sat gleaming directly before them. Sam took Dean's arm from around his shoulders and helped him to sit on the front of his car. Once Dean was as comfortable as he was going to get reclining on the front windshield of the car he'd rebuilt again and again, Sam grabbed his older brother by the hand and said, "I'll be right back," and began to limp back in the direction of the bunker.

"Sam?" Dean mumbled, forcing his neck to allow him to look at his brother, "No, Sam! Don't you dare just-"

"I've just got to do this one thing, Dean," Sam called back, his older brother taking note of the pain in his voice, but also taking note of the determination.

"SAM!" He yelled one last time before watching his sasquatch of a brother disappear into the flames they had just escaped. He wanted to get up, to follow Sam, to protect his pain in the ass little brother, but a wave of pain washed over him, wiping away any resolution to be strong. He let his head fall back on the windshield of his baby and began counting.

After three hundred and twenty seven seconds, he heard a grunt, and Dean willed his body to be strong as he propped himself up on his elbows.

Sam was there, covered in soot and coughing, but he was there, "Sam, don't ever do that again."

Sam let out a small chuckle as he somehow managed to lay his broken body down next to his brother's, "Don't worry," he coughed, "I don't think I'll be able too."

Dean tried to smile, but he knew what Sam was saying; that there was no doing _anything_ ever again. There was only whatever Death had in store for them. Dean attempted to nudge his younger brother, "What was that all about anyways? Trying to give me a heart attack when I'm-" but Dean never got a change to finish his inquiry.

For, mid-sentence, Sam had placed something in his palm, something he hadn't been able to hold on to for years.

It was his amulet. The one Sam had given him. The one Sam had worn while Dean was in Hell.

The one that he had thrown away like it was garbage.

Tears began to cloud Dean's already fading vision, but he held them back as best he could to ask, "How long have you have this?"

He saw that his brother's hazel eyes were swimming with tears as he replied, "Since the moment you threw it away."

Dean pushed away all thoughts of the pain he felt, the sadness he felt, and the inevitability of their deaths; he pushed everything away in the one moment and put all his focus into wrapping his arms around his brother. The way he had when he carried him out of their burning house. The way he had when Sam had died in Cold Oak. The way he had whenever Sam defied the odds- the way he always did.

Dean wrapped his arms around his little brother as if his life depended on it, because it felt like it did.

Choking back a sob, white knuckles holding the amulet in his hand, Dean said was Sam had always wanted to hear, "That's how long I've wanted it back."

In his arms, Dean could feel Sam nod his head. He understood. Of course he understood, that was his Sam, his wonderful baby brother, always understanding.

Always understanding.

Dean broke the embrace first, but only to place the familiar leather strip of the necklace around his head. He let the amulet fall right over his heart; where it always belonged. He looked from the necklace to his brother, and smiled despite the pain he felt searing through his body.

His brother smiled back, and in that moment it didn't matter that their lives were ending, because their lives were ending _together_.

Eventually, the brothers found themselves lying back down on the windshield of the Impala, staring at the stars that would surely go on living centuries more than the Winchester brothers; but neither of them would want it any other way.

They had given up their lives, on more than one occasion, to save this world, and staring in awe at the beauty of the stars, both of them remembered why.

They could both feel the blood pooling underneath them. They knew their clocks were almost up, ticking down to the last few minutes.

Sam tilted his head to look at his brother, "Do we have to go?" he asked before breaking into a weak fit of coughs. He knew the answer of course, but he simply wanted an excuse to hear his brother's voice, just one last time. He kept coughing though, it was getting harder to stop.

"Easy there tiger," Dean soothed him, rubbing his arm until the coughs subsided, "Don't worry Sam, I'll be with you the whole time."

Sam smiled at his older brother, "It's Sammy."

Dean couldn't help but smile back. He was right, it was Sammy; it was his Sammy.

And soon his Sammy exhaled for the last time, and the younger Winchester closed his eyes, a faint smile still playfully lying on his lips.

"Goodnight, Sammy."

Dean found his brother's hand and closed his eyes as well, a smile on his face matching the one on his brother's.

And as the Winchesters lay on the Impala, darkness relinquished itself to the dawn of a new day, a day without the Winchesters, but a day alive because of them.

And as the Winchesters lay on the Impala, the amulet about Dean's heart because to burn hot.

And all was well.

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**Please let me know what you think, REVIEWS ARE LOVE 3**

**So that's it, this is how I want it to end... but I never seem to get what I want when it comes to this show...**

**Oh well, that's why there's fanfiction!**

**Smiles and Sunshine,**

**Darby**


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